Deep Cover
by Clecky
Summary: Simon takes on a new job but leaves himself behind.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: This piece is pretty confusing at the beginning. Normally I just let stories speak for themselves, but this one requires extra patience. All will be explained eventually, I promise.

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"You don't know what you're asking, Captain." Simon said, and Mal was startled by the cold, flat tone of his voice. "I came very, very close- far too damn close for comfort- to breaking myself as throughly as the Alliance broke River."

"I got no other options, doc. Maybe you've some other idea to get out of this?" Mal was startled by the hope he felt; then again if anyone could possibly get them out of this situation it would be Simon, one way or another. "This ain't my world."

"Nor mine." Simon snapped. He ran a hand over his face and shivered. "I... don't know if I even can. I was on the edge of madness, last time. Maybe over it. It was luck, like I told you when I nearly killed Kaylee."

"I don't blame you for it, son." Mal soothed. "I did at the time, sure, but I got over it." He awkwardly reached out to pat the doctor on the shoulder.

Simon didn't even notice the tentative gesture. "I never did." He turned and practically fled the bridge.

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River eventually found Simon, curled up tight in the smallest hidey-hole he knew of inside Serenity. She was almost surprised- almost- that the rest of the crew couldn't feel his distress and anguish. The crew, nice as most of them were, could be singularly insensitive.

"Simon?" She asked, sliding into the hole beside him. There was just enough room for her to wedge herself in next to his feet and slide the heavy panel back over the opening, cutting them off from the world.

"River." He answered, and she could feel his desperate amusement at the reversal of roles. He said nothing more- she could feel the emptiness and his struggle to keep from falling into it.

"When you look into the abyss, it looks back into you." She muttered and hugged his lower legs, since the rest of him was out of reach. "Emptiness... nothing is easier. Ground state. Entropy is running- takes energy to defeat."

"Energy which I severely lack." Simon said, for once understanding perfectly. "I... wish I could help. But I can't risk- what I did before. I just can't." River felt his soul-deep shudder and hugged him tighter. She didn't reply, though. He had to be uninfluenced- the decision, when it came (and it would) would have to be his own.

"Betrayal." She said instead. "Unnatural. An unweaned puppy put outside in the cold and dark night." She loosened her grip on his legs and patted his knee instead. "Hard to feel."

Simon half-laughed, half-sobbed, and slid out into the slightly wider space near the entrance. She sat on his lap, wedged with her back against his chest on one side and her drawn-up knees pressing the wall on the other. He held her tightly, his face pressed into her hair.

"Can't just act, have to feel. Feel deep, deep to the bone. None of the others can... they don't know how. Not even Captain. Betrayed, yes, but never personally." She said, not to persuade him but to remind him. She could feel his rejection, a solid wall in his mind and a slight shake of his head against her. "Too dangerous for me..." She stopped instantly as his mind fell, spiraled away into icy logic and stark light. She couldn't follow there. She had pushed, accidentally, and he was gone. He would kill himself for her- would walk into a room of Reavers unarmed and bound if it meant her freedom and happiness. His mere sanity was a small price, he thought, and just the idea that she might go in his place was enough to make the decision for him.

She pulled away as much as she could in the small space and kicked out the panel shutting away the world. The world flowed back in- light and warmth. None of it touched him. She scuttled away and watched him emerge, eyes wide and hands over her mouth. She could feel him store the image of her running from him- he would use it and it would slice his mind to ribbons. She wanted to go to him, but a gulf as wide and as black as space itself was between them now.

"I am Doctor Harold Black." He announced. "I am a new recruit to the Alliance military corps. I have no family, no friends to speak of. I believe wholeheartedly with the Alliance that control must be maintained on the Rim planets." River shrank away and shut her eyes tight, wishing she could shut her mind. Simon believed what he was saying; believed it to his soul, if he still had one. "I am volunteering for the purpose of-"

He was interrupted by Mal's arrival. The Captain looked on in confusion as River scurried over and hid behind him. "Uh, doc, you feelin' okay?"

He was even more visibly boggled when Simon turned and just _stared_ at him, in a way that made glacial caves seem warm and friendly. "No. I'm going to miss the recruitment if you move any slower."

"Uh, recruitment?" Mal asked, taken aback. Very aback. The kid hadn't been this uppity even when he first got on board.

Simon just glared and turned sharply on his heel, marching out of the common area towards his bunk. River began crying quietly as Mal blinked. "Pushed him off the cliff." She moaned. "I- I didn't mean too. I never know what I'm saying." She latched onto the Captain's arm- a pathetic, childish instinct that she couldn't control.

Mal's face slowly twisted with comprehension- and apprehension. "You mean he's gonna spy for us?"

"Yes." River breathed, and tightened her grip. She also hid her face against the rough fabric of his shirt; again, a childish action but still uncontrollable.

"Didn't he say that was dangerous?" Mal asked carefully, his mind racing, trying to find all the consequences. "That he could hurt his mind or something?"

River didn't answer aloud, just nodded against his shirt. And began crying again. Nothing in the 'verse could stop Simon- Harold- now. He'd already fallen, and she couldn't catch him.

"Things fall apart, the center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world." She quoted. "He isn't Simon anymore." She began sobbing in earnest then; Mal held her helplessly. "God help him."

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Eating dinner with Simon- Harold now, Mal reminded himself- that night was the most difficult thing that he had ever done, but he would be _damned_ in every sense of the word if he let Sim- Harold eat alone. Even if he obviously wanted to. He was just grateful that he'd found some pretense to keep Kaylee and the crew away, and that Inara had volunteered to watch River.

"You needn't keep up this farcical performance, Captain." The doctor- it was easier to think of him that way and not by name- kept shoveling food into his mouth, obviously not tasting it and not caring to. "You don't like me and I very much dislike you."

Mal snorted. "I aim to watch you 'til you're off my ship. I don't trust you." The words hurt, ripping from his throat. He fancied he could hear River screaming.

Simon nodded, perfectly content with the statement. "I would appreciate some training in weapons. I am not wholly unfamiliar with guns, but any additional knowledge would increase my chances of being able to help the Alliance effort."

Mal's mouth went slightly dry at the casual and easy way the doc said that. "And you would do anything to help them?" He asked, unable to keep himself from probing just how deep Simon's- Harold's new mindset went. River had assured him that even she didn't know her brother anymore, and he was practically unrecognizable physically due to a different bearing and a new martial mustache. It would have looked utterly ridiculous to anyone who had known Simon, but it somehow fit Harold to a tee.

"Don't ever visit my intentions, Captain." Simon said, in a tone as coolly murderous as any Mal had ever heard, including Niska's. He sounded like he didn't care in the slightest if he killed Mal or not, and it was all kinds of frightening. "Don't ever."

Mal nodded, taking the words to heart, and looked up at the sound of something crashing to the floor. Inara stood in the door of the common room, looking like she'd seen a particularly violent and vengeful ghost. Simon- Harold nodded at her coldly; she shuddered and practically ran away. Mal considered the back of the doctor's head for a moment, then followed Inara out into the passageway.

"Inara?" He asked once out of earshot of the dining room. "Are you alright?" There was more than simple concern for her welfare in the question, but she was hopefully to upset to hear it.

"What's happened to him, Mal?" She asked directly, leaning against the passage wall with her arms around herself. "He... changed. Or froze."

"He's goin' to play spy." Mal said, and regretted the harsh words the second they were out.

Inara shook her head. "It was more than that- he was a different man. Entirely. He was quoting Jubal Early and meant what he said- and the threat behind the words. I know sincerity that- that deep when I hear it." She shivered, and looked down at Serenity's deck. "Did he... go mad?"

"Perilous close." Mal muttered. "No, it's what he did when he had to get River out. He picked a part to play, planned it all out, and schooled himself 'til he can't be anything but. Last time he had a specfic guidin' purpose and something to hold onto- I don't reckon 'Go find things out and find a way to get us out of this mess' will be enough so that he can play a part and not loose himself to it."

"This... was your idea?" Inara stated as much as asked. He could see the fear- and it had been fear, which was startling- turning to anger.

"Yes." Mal said honestly. "But the boy thought of the idea first. He had all his objections ready and waitin'."

"I need to see to River- no wonder she's been crying." Inara said, stone-faced. She swirled around, gown settling again after the abrupt movement, and swept away, leaving Mal alone in the passage. The doc would be off soon enough that the crew wouldn't have time to see him before he left; it was for the best, even though Mal heartily regretted having the idea in the first place. Kaylee would cry- hell, _he_ might cry. For now, Simon might as well be dead and buried.

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

If Harold was surprised by the violence and prejudice in the Alliance recruiting station, he didn't show it a bit. Ice floated equally well on water or blood, after all. And he was ice now.

The recruiter looked at him for half a second and gestured to the desk in the opposite corner of the room. "You'll want officer training. Go sign up over there."

Just the walk to the desk was hazardous- the lowest of the low were signing up, dealing with the devil for more security, better pay and probably just about the same food they had on the streets. Harold had left the transport ship- he couldn't remember the name and it was irrelevant- armed as heavily as he would ever be, with a pair of knives, a small automatic handgun, and a rifle slung over his shoulder. He'd already defended himself from robbers and pickpockets twice; it was only luck that had let him walk away without killing anyone, though he suspected the man whose nose he had sliced would have a permanent and prominent scar.

The recruiter smiled at him. He wasn't nearly as busy as his comrades signing on the rabble. "What's your name, son?"

"Doctor Harold Black." Harold replied frostily, and nearly laughed inside when the man recoiled. He was scary, knew it, and took no pains to hide it.

"A doctor?" The man asked, narrowing his eyes. "Now what would a nice doctor like yourself-" he eyed the young man's guns and visibly decided not to comment, "want to be signing up for?"

"Revenge." Harold said, and the grim smile that accompanied his words actually left the other man shaking. This was too easy.

"If you're an officer, you have to submit to occasional polygraph tests as well as attend psychoanalysis sessions. You will be trained to be the best of the best in whatever field you choose. You will command other men and be responsible for their actions as much as yours. Do you still want to join up?" The recruiter plowed gamely on, eager to finish this interview and find solace in an unspecified alcoholic beverage.

"Yes," Harold said, and pressed his thumb to the recording plate. "Doctor Harold Black." He told it, and it obediently repeated his name. He was now an officer of the Alliance.

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"I don't like taking that sort on." The recruiter told his superior, nursing the cold beer that was the strongest thing he could legally drink while nominally on duty. "He's a fanatic- you feel like every breath you take in his presence is by his express permission, and he could withhold that permission just to see what colors you turn. It's scary."

"We'll have the new Reader check him, but he sounds perfect for a new mission that just came down the line." The superior said smugly. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with him for long."

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The Reader took one look at Harold and screamed. She kept screaming until she was forcibly removed from the room. Harold looked on with perfect indifference.

"So, Doctor Black, you can do pretty much anything you like within the Alliance military." The slightly shaken superior said. He hadn't believed the recruiter... now he wished he'd fortified himself with a beer as well. "Honestly, though, we just received orders for a new mission. There's a rouge vessel in land-lock at Portsmuth Docks. It's believed to be carrying two fugitives- a brother and a sister. Simon and River Tam."

"And?" Harold snapped. "What's the mission?" The superior sat back, sweating now.

"I can't tell you more without you going through the polygraph and psychoanalysis sessions."

"Very well." Harold stood. "Hurry up, then."

The superior found himself nearly running away to set up the tests.

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"What's your name?" The polygraph operator asked, fiddling with some dials.

"Harold Black."

"Occupation?" He flicked a few switches and turned the readout screen so that Harold couldn't see it.

"Doctor."

"Like physician type doctor?" The operator's eyes flicked to the guns the man had carried when he first entered the room.

"Yes."

"Okay then... I'm going to ask you some questions. You just relax and answer them, okay?" The operator got out a slightly modified list of questions- the superior had wanted some changes to the standard list to check to see if the subject would be okay for a specific mission. "Do you have any reason to dislike the Alliance military or political institutions?"

"Far from it." Harold answered, sounding vaguely amused of all things. The operator frowned- he'd gotten a slight twitch in the readout.

"Could you elaborate?" He asked, frowning and shifting so that he could see both the subject's face and the readout.

"No."

"You won't elaborate?" The operator asked, surprised.

"I have no reason to dislike the Alliance or anything it does." The subject clarified. The operator nodded. That was true, according to his machine.

The questioning continued until the operator was throughly confused. The subject was giving contradictory readings and seemed to find the whole thing _funny_, in a remote and frigid way.

"Okay- I think we're done here. You can head back to the barracks and then head over to the mess hall for chow."

"Good." Harold said, and began detaching himself from the polygraph machine. The operator looked on in sudden doubt, but shook his head and helped him free himself.

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The mess hall was an ordeal that Harold would not willingly have undergone. He had fended off two attempted robberies and four propositions to "have some fun tonight" before he shot the next person that approached him in the foot. After that nobody went near him and he finished his meal in relative peace.

He turned in his tray and utensils and went back to his room, only to find it had been throughly searched in his absence. He snorted in disgust- that was just _unprofessional_- and set about cleaning his weapons, ignoring the mess his few possessions were in.

That night he slept with his back against the door, a gun in one hand and a knife in the other, ready and willing to use either.

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The next morning found Harold cleaning his weapons again and dressed in a crisp, starched uniform in neutral gray. After he set the greasy rag aside, he shouldered the rifle, holstered the gun, and slid the knives into his new boots. Armed and armored, he didn't have nearly so much trouble in the mess hall. It seemed the story of his cold-blooded shooting had spread- again everyone was staying away, despite the fact that many if not most of the faces were unfamiliar to him. Either that or he was so forbidding that the fools were staying away out of sheer instinct; if Harold could have been grateful for anything he might have been grateful for that. He didn't actually want to shoot them- it was messy. And loud. In fact, the next time he'd just break the neck of anyone who approached instead of shooting them.

He allowed himself a small smile as he ate the truly terrible 'food'. Things were going well.

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"Doctor Harold Black?" A voice called, and Harold looked up from the chair in the bland waiting room. "The doctor will see you now." He nodded without speaking and entered the spacious corner office.

"Dr. Black, how are we today?" The psychoanalyst rolled the syllables around her mouth like fine wine.

"We? We are fine, we presume. We are inconvenienced by this pointless charade, however." Harold glared, and the psychoanalyst sat up straight for once with her hand over the security call button. "Don't presume to patronize me, ma'am."

"Very well, young man. No need to get upset." She soothed, making a mental note. _Highly hostile towards authority figures. _"Do you know why you're here?"

"Because of an outdated policy of pesudo-Freudian psychoanalysis- no, that's why you're here. Me, I'm here because I want to join the Alliance military." _An inappropriate sense of humor and a lack of accommodation to military regulations._

"Why do you want to join the Alliance military?" She asked, reaching for a recording pad. She didn't usually use one, but she would probably want to be able to play back this conversation later.

"I want to join, ma'am, because-" he hesitated for a split second; the psychoanalyst noted, "because I am ambitious."

"Ambitious? How so?" She asked, actually interested despite herself.

"Ambitious enough that I want the power that the Alliance has and has not used." _Probably a sociopath, a madman or fanatic. The perfect makings for an Operative, but too strong-willed to be a leashed dog. A dangerous man._

"Power?" She asked. "Power we have but haven't used?"

"Power indeed- the power of control. Control of people, control of lives- power is said to be the ultimate aphrodisiac, is it not?" He smiled in a way that left his eyes cold and madness plain to see. _Well educated and intelligent, but emotionally distant. And insane._

"It is." She agreed. "I think we're done here. If you would be so kind-" She offered another recording pad, and he pressed his thumb against it. "Doctor Harold Black." It chimed at them. _Perfect for deep cover operations. Judging from the reaction I'm told our Reader had to him, he'll be able to flush out River Tam with ease. He must never been given power, but he will be a great asset._

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The man banged on the door set into Serenity's cargo bay with the butt of his gun. Harold nearly winced at the mistreatment of a good weapon and snapped something at the man that made him shrink away and try to hide behind his comrades. He waited impatiently until the door was opened and then strode aboard past the woman holding it without waiting for an invitation.

"Captian Malcolm Reynolds?" He asked, staring around icily. He could hear a few gasps from the crew and the girl holding a wrench dropped it with a clang.

"I'm Captian Reynolds. How can I help you?" A man stepped forward, dressed in ratty suspenders and carrying a gun at his hip.

"You will provide me with lodgings and passage to where ever I request, whenever I request it. If you are hiding the Tam siblings, which I strongly suspect you are, they will not be able to hide from me forever, so you might want to surrender them now in return for clemency."

"We don't have any siblings on board, sir." The Captain answered. "Unless, of course, you brought 'em along with your fine crew-"

"Shut up." Harold said. "In return for my free passage, I will doctor your crew. I will be reporting regularly to the Alliance; your movements will be mostly unhindered."

"Uh... that sounds like an okay deal." The Captain shrugged. "We'll cooperate with the Alliance to the fullest, of course."

"Indeed." Harold replied, waving his escort away. "I have my baggage with me. We can leave immediately."

The crew waited, frozen, until Zoe shut the door behind the last slightly bewildered Alliance soldier. River ran forward, stopping outside of arm's length of the doctor. "Simon?" She whispered.

"River." He answered with a happy grin, and fell over at her feet.


	3. Chapter 3

"No!" River screamed, pushing Mal away from Simon. "He needs- needs to reboot. Don't touch him!" She smacked his concerned hand away and stared intently at her brother.

He was her brother, as impossible as it seemed. Her brother, actual and whole. Scarred, yes, and deeply, but Simon again.

Inara swept forward and knelt beside Simon's still form. "What can I do to help, River?" She asked gently.

"Someone needs to get his journal- Jayne knows where it is and what it looks like." River said. "And food. You could pray."

Mal ordered Jayne away with a look that promised one of his infamous 'personal chats', not liking that the mercenary knew that kind of personal information. Jayne had the grace to look embarrassed as he ducked away towards the passenger rooms.

"I'll get the food." Wash volunteered, and raced away as well. Zoe didn't move, except to put her hand on her gun and glance over at Mal.

"The doctor is indisposed?" She asked. "This looks like a little more than indisposition, sir."

"Don't it?" Mal muttered, his gaze leaving hers and sliding along to Kaylee. Kaylee, who looked like her heart had broken. She'd been confused and upset when Simon had seemingly vanished, but now she was scared. "Come here, mei mei. I have some explanin' to do."

"Yes, Capt'n." Kayle sidled over quickly and stared solemnly down at Simon. "He's wearing a purplebelly uniform and had an escort of 'em too. What happened?"

"He... this is damn hard to explain. You know how we've been stuck in landlock? Simon went to spy, to see what he could find out and try to get us out of Alliance clutches. I don't know what happened after that, and I don't rightly think I want to. I believe he got us free, though." Mal reached out and pulled her into a one-armed hug. Her eyes never left Simon's still form.

"He wasn't Simon." River added fiercely. "Not then. He didn't know what he was saying- like me but opposite. Too much control, not too little." She reached out a hand over Simon's back as though testing to see whether he would burn her, and withdrew with a yelp. "Resetting now. He'll hurt when he wakes up."

As if on cue, Simon groaned and stirred. He sat up slowly- River still didn't touch him, and smacked the Captain's hand away again- and shook his head. He stared around blankly, obviously not recognizing anything in the cargo bay, until he saw River.

"River?" He slurred, and looked down at himself in surprise. "What-"

"Simon!" She squealed, and threw herself at him. He fell over backwards, the back of his head cushioned by Mal's boots, with River's arms tight around him.

"Captain. Kaylee." Simon blinked up at them and turned his head slightly with an effort. "Inara. Uh... hello?"

"Are you alright, son?" Book asked, stepping forward out of the shadows. Mal tensed slightly; he couldn't help himself. Someone ought to bell the preacher like a cat.

River giggled and rolled off of Simon. "He's mostly okay." She lifted him off of Mal's boots, and Kaylee crouched down to help hold him up. "He once was lost but now is found."

Book raised his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully, though he didn't comment. Jayne returned with Simon's journal and shoved it into his hands with a mutter that was either throughly obscene or apologetic; it was hard to tell at the volume that Jayne was speaking.

Simon weakly held onto the journal. "Thanks, uh... Jayne." River glanced up, alarmed at the too-long pause, but was reassured by the twinkle in Simon's eye. Jayne looked like he couldn't decide whether to be concerned, confused, or choleric; he settled for mildly annoyed and stalked off to take it out on his weights.

Wash arrived, holding a spoon covered in rehydrated protein paste. "Dinner is served, and I'm not bringing it down to all of you. You'll have to come to it... or I could feed it to the dinosaurs, I'm sure they appreciate my culinary talents."

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Dinner that night was a happy affair for all with the possible exception of Jayne, who was now sporting a mysterious black eye. No one was foolhardy enough to comment on it.

"So, now that chow's done I guess I ought to tell you all what's been goin' on with our good doc." Mal said, pushing back his chair to stand and assume the 'Captainy position' at the head of the table. "We had ourselves caught good and tight this time with Alliance cargo in the hold, and I couldn't see a way out 'cept maybe abandonin' Serenity- at the expense of our current identities and maybe our lives. I've been bound five times now, and I don't think I'll have many more chances."

He met everyone's gaze equally- River and Kaylee's tearful ones, Book's and Zoe's guarded, Jayne's resentful, Inara's and Wash's shocked- and Simon's _amused_. "So I figured we needed someone on the inside- someone who could either convince the brass to let us go or at least tell us when they were comin'. I thought of Simon, 'cause he mentioned doin' somethin' similar when he first got River out."

"I can't imagine the Alliance would fall for such a trick twice." Book commented.

"Oh, it wasn't really a trick. He thought himself into bein' a nutso believer, just like that operative. I dunno how he did it, but he became someone different- different under the skin." Mal said. Book inhaled sharply and sat back, further away from Simon. "He was afraid he'd go mad- hell, he did go mad. I've never seen anything like it, not even in the war." Mal shook his head. "It was damn scary, to tell you the truth. We- I nearly lost us the doc."

"I shot someone." Simon said quietly, no longer looking amused. Kaylee gasped. "I shot someone because I was annoyed at everyone. And I nearly cut someone's nose off with a knife, for trying to pick my pocket."

Jayne snorted with laughter, spraying water all over the table. Everyone turned to stare at him, including Simon. "What?" He asked. "The doc cuttin' someone's nose off- that's funny."

Mal shook his head and resumed the briefing. "So Simon agreed- and then he wasn't Simon anymore. We marched over to the Alliance recruitment station and I left him at the door. Don't rightly know what happened next. Not sure I want to."

"Silly." River scolded. "Need to know." She cut up Simon's reconstituted protein aggressively; Jayne paled and moved away slightly.

"I was accepted right away as an officer." Simon said, looking somewhere over Mal's left shoulder. "They had polygraph-" he saw Jayne's uncomprehending stare and sighed, "lie detector tests, psychoanalysis and a Reader, I believe. They declared that I was perfect for a new secret mission they had, to find the Tams, starting with riding Serenity for a good long while." He smiled mischievously at River. She grinned back. "Ironic, wouldn't you say?"

Mal nearly choked. "You mean to say the Alliance put you up to findin' yourself?"

"Yes." Simon said happily. "And now you have a mole inside the Alliance as long as they see fit to keep me informed- I have a portable Cortex uplink connected to the Alliance network. They won't trust me forever, especially since they'll never see me again in person if I can help it, but it should last long enough. Certainly it will if I send reports, maybe even have them catch you or someone else with smuggled but non-Alliance cargo."

"Maybe not so much on the catchin'." Mal protested. "I been bound five times, remember." Simon snorted but nodded, grinning again.

"Okay, ladies and gents- and Jayne- I propose a toast. Health, wealth and happiness to our resident doctor, Simon Tam!" Mal said, and drained his cup. Everyone else followed suit, and got down to clearing off the table.

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"Well, there's three choices that I know for dealing with what I did." Simon said, staring up at the cloth-draped ceiling of Inara's shuttle. "Repress and deny is the easiest for me by far, if not the healthiest or safest. Next in my preference is directed dreaming- no guarantee it would work, though, and I'm just trained enough to do myself real harm instead of good. Then, of course, there's plain, old-fashioned talking." He sat up on the edge of the couch, pulled his boots off (setting his borrowed knives carefully aside out of his easy reach), and laid down again.

"I don't know much about directed dreaming. My studies were in other areas of treatment. As a registered Companion, and as a friend, I need to help... so do you mind talking? You know I won't tell anyone what you say." Inara offered, along with some tea.

"You know, I'd never realized that you could be my friend before you said that." Simon mused. He sat up again, missing the quickly veiled hurt in Inara's expression, and accepted the tea gravely. "I haven't been thinking very clearly since I got River away from the Academy, I suppose. Repress and deny in action."

"Why do you never say that you saved River?" Inara asked curiously, sitting gracefully on a padded, folding stool across the table from Simon. "It's always that you got her away, or stopped them from hurting her, or kept her safe- never that you saved her."

Simon choked on his tea. "Ouch." He muttered when he was able to breathe properly again. "That was... uncannily perceptive. I had no idea that- well, words speak as loud as actions, I suppose. I haven't saved her; not yet anyway."

"But she's free of their clutches and safe, now. What more could you want?" Inara was obviously puzzled. Simon had to remind himself that even if she was acting, it was for his own good and he'd come to her for help.

"You want the list? I have a list." He shook his head ruefully. "First, security. Much as we love this ship- I include myself in that, not what I meant to say but there it is- it's not secure. Financially, physically, and for all I know emotionally, it's not exactly safe. Getting the Alliance to send me to track me down was pure luck and will go a long way to making things better, for which I thank every deity I know and some I don't. Second, happiness. I want her to be happy. Have you any alcohol?"

If Inara was bewildered by Simon's sudden question, she didn't show it. "Yes, of course." She was rising, probably to get it, before he continued.

"Good, I think I may want to get slightly drunk, and that this conversation will be easier and safer if I am. Third- and this is selfish in the extreme, especially considering what I just did- I want her to stay with me. She's a brat, but she's my sister. I'd walk into a room of Reavers unarmed and bound if it meant her safety and happiness. I think she knows that, and it scares her." Simon sat up again, and began methodically tearing apart the nearest cushion. He waved away Inara's offer of a glass and took the bottle. "I can pay for this, you know. And the poor defenseless cushion."

"Don't worry about it- I can more than afford to lose a cushion, and the wine is indifferent at best. Why would River be scared of how much you care for her?"

"Because she's better at math than I am." Simon said, with a sideways smile that was too close for comfort to the look he'd had when quoting Early in the dining room. "She's afraid my cost-benefit analysis won't be up to snuff- a curious expression, isn't that? She's afraid I'll hurt myself or let myself be hurt for too little benefit, and of course she's right. That's guilt." He shook his head. "Self-diagnosis isn't helping, much."

"I think you might be a little too hard on yourself, Simon." She mentioned gently. He shook his head again, maybe in denial and maybe in agreement, and took three deep gulps from the bottle.

"So, a clinical description of what I did. You might have heard the theory in outline during your training. It's... creating a new personality from scratch and being it. Hard to do, harder to explain." He said, and drank some more. "Have you ever met an actor in theater that was so into their part that they only vaguely remembered who they really were? Again, that's similar to what I did, in the same way that house cats are similar to lions. I couldn't remember who I was before- didn't know that I'd been someone before and didn't care. River ran away from me."

Inara wordlessly patted his hand. He smiled painfully and looked away. "The problem now, of course, is that I have a ready-made psychosis sitting in my head- a second ready-made psychosis, since I haven't dealt with the first time I did it. It's like self-inflicted multiple personality disorder. Remember when the survivor from the shipwreck tried to become a Reaver? I'm afraid that's what'll happen to me, that I'll become what I made myself be, and I don't trust myself enough to stop it on my own. Hence the help I asked for. I don't suppose you're any good at integrating personalities?" Simon had tried for a flippant tone, but he just sounded desperate.

"I wish I could help, Simon, I truly do, but..." She shook her head helplessly. "My training is in other areas. I could contact some of my sisters-"

"No, I'm both an officer of the Alliance and a fugitive of it now. I trust you... too bad you can't help with the integrating, but it's not the end of the world. Talking should- has helped a lot." Simon looked faintly surprised. "Yes, it has helped. I didn't really think it would. Doctor's arrogance, I suppose... May I keep the wine? I really should pay for it and that cushion." He looked, slightly sheepish, at the remains of the cushion strewn all over the plush carpeting.

"No, no... I'm sure you need some rest. Consider the wine and the cushion a gift." Inara stood and smiled down at Simon. "I haven't exactly enjoyed this conversation, but I'm glad we had it."

"So am I, milady. So am I." He stood and bowed, not with her flawless grace but smoothly enough. "Would you mind informing the Captain that I plan to sleep in the other shuttle tonight? I think I may be loud... It's soundproofed and locks from the outside."

"Locks from the outside?" Inara asked, shocked. "You plan to be locked in, like an animal in a cage?"

"Yes, I do. I'm very close to being an animal right now... I hope you won't mind looking after those knives for me." Simon nodded at them. As soon as Inara looked away from him towards the knives, he retreated quickly. "Good night, Inara."

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That night everyone heard Simon screaming as though he was being tortured, soundproofed shuttle or not. River stayed awake and sat against the closed and locked shuttle door. Her brother would rise or fall with the turn of the tide- never mind that the closest tides were hours away at full burn. These were the critical hours... and of course he locked her out. The boob. She settled further back against the door and took up a vigil- or deathwatch.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as River felt her brother's mind go relatively quiet, she unlocked the shuttle and slipped inside. Technically it was even morning, 00:21 by ship's time, so she hadn't broken her promise to stay away until morning.

"Still waters run deep." She whispered, and felt his mind again. It was the oddest sensation she'd ever had, including the patch of thorns that was Mal's mind and the fluttering leaf that was Wash's. He really was two people now; two and a half, really, but the old half-person was faded and shouldn't get a vote. "What did you do to yourself for the sake of me?"

Simon slept on, oblivious to her presence and almost snoring. She steeled herself to the task ahead and put her hand on Simon's forehead as if to feel his temperature- in a way she was. The dreams were waiting, and she would see and hear them and be with her brother through them. If just her presence wasn't enough, as a last desperate measure she might eventually try to influence his dreams themselves. Of course that would put her in as much danger as him- 'shattered reality matrices' don't mix well with therapies that involve immersing oneself in someone else, especially someone else who isn't awake and therefore has no inhibitions or self-control.

The dreams came, and River was ready.

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"This is truly bizarre." Simon commented, addressing the apple-sized world he held in his hand. "Irregular, one might say. Is saying. Whatever." He set the world on fire and watched it burn- the flames didn't touch his hand, though the globe burned to ash. He shook the remnants off and went to wash his hands- the water ran bloody, though his hands had been clean. "I think I might even be dreaming lucidly... I hope I don't remember this in the morning. I don't like to think how weird my subconscious can be." He faced an ocean of faceless, nameless people, hunting him like an animal, and yearned to kill them all, though before he had wanted only peace.

"River?" He asked, subduing the impulse and literally turning his back on the hunters. "You're here, I suppose? I think I always expected you to be... didn't you promise to stay out until morning?"

"Yes." Dream-River whispered from the shadows of a thickly overgrown path into a wood. "You have promises to keep, and miles to go before you sleep." The real River watched, wondering, as Simon shrugged and vanished into the wood, ignoring the bullets whizzing past him.

"Hide and seek." Simon declared ironically, wielding a machete against the entangling branches and vines. "You know how much I enjoy not knowing where you are, River."

Dream-River giggled and the paradigm shifted. A desert sprang up around them, and Simon slid the pack off of his back and set it on a rock. "A River in a desert?" He tapped the rock with his former machete, now a stout quarterstaff like he'd once learned to fight with once, and a river sprang out. But no River.

The real River pulled her hand and mind away from Simon and his dreams, shaking. Even his mind obviously used some sort of... of emotional shorthand to review notes from the day. There was some clear imagery, some not so clear imagery, some downright obscure imagery, layers on top of layers... everything in his dreams had meanings, and the meanings were slowly blending the two people he now was together. Osmosis of personality... integration. But too, too slow.

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"What's the integral of Simon?" River greeted her brother the next morning, following along as he stumbled on in his search for caffeine and tannic acid. "And the anti-integral?"

"Er." Simon said vaguely. "Go ask Father." He groped around inside the cabinets in the dining room until he found a pot- the teakettle was beyond him, as he hadn't woken up yet. Too bad waking up required tea, and making tea required some coordination and planning ahead of which he wasn't capable until he _had_ the tea. An endless, vicious cycle. He should just go back to bed.

"Captain, what's the integral of Simon?" She asked. Mal was watching, amused, as Simon was attempting to open the packet of powdered tea. So far his efforts included staring at it in a pleading way and dropping it on the floor.

"Integral... isn't that some sort of math thing?" Mal asked, rounding the table. He took the tea packet and tore it open for Simon. The doctor took it with a grateful smile, then made a frustrated noise and handed it back so he could put the water on to boil.

"Go sit down." River shooed her brother away and shook her head ruefully at Mal. "He takes so much looking after... can't even remember how opposable thumbs work." Simon made a mildly protesting noise but gladly fell into the nearest chair and put his head down on the table.

"You okay, son?" Mal asked, concerned. "The shuttle ain't comfortable, it don't even have a bed."

"The shuttle was fine." Simon muttered into the tabletop. "I had weird dreams, though. Really, really weird. I think the directed dreaming is working... but weirdly." River set the cup in front of him, and he stared at it with undisguised longing but didn't move.

"You have to catch it." River informed Simon. He gave her a dirty look, sat more or less upright and poured half the mug of tea down his throat in a few seconds, with an expression that was as close to pure pleasure Mal had ever seen short of sex.

"Simon should be quantified... be predictable. Be a function of variables. He isn't." River complained. "Silly Simon. How can I find the integral if he isn't a proper function?"

"What's a function?" Simon asked, sounding marginally more alert. River glared at him. "Math isn't my subject." He added defensively and went back to his tea.

"I have to find the integral and fix Simon." She explained to Mal. Mal nodded wisely, not having any sort of clue as to what she was saying, and offered her some protein colored with blue food dye. She wrinkled her nose. "Food shouldn't be blue. It's not natural... the shortest wavelength is always used up."

"So... what's this "directed dreamin'" you're talkin' about?" Mal asked Simon, pointedly ignoring River's comment. She sulked and Simon looked up from pouring himself another mug. "Something to keep you from goin' mad again?"

"Yes. No. It's a way to integrate- not with an integral, sorry River- integrate the two personalities I now have in my head. I can't just make-" he waved his hand and looked irritated, "make Harold go away. Or what I did when I was Harold. I think English needs more tenses." He drank some more of the tea and looked instantly happier. "So don't be surprised if I start doing weird things. Like this." He pulled out a knife and a whetstone and began sharpening the knife, setting the blade aside occasionally to sip his tea. Mal twitched and glanced over at River- she was trying not to laugh. He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and walked away shaking his head.

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"Jayne?" Simon clattered down the steps to the cargo bay and Jayne nearly dropped his weights onto his foot.

"Jesus, doc, you don't have to give me a heart attack!" He picked up the weights that had rolled away and glared at Simon. "What do you want, anyway?"

"I'm returning your guns." Simon slid the rifle off of his shoulder and held it out, along with the holstered automatic.

"Aw, hell, you keep 'em. I got too many already." Jayne turned away purposefully and began shelving the weights again.

"...did you just say you had too many guns?" Simon asked. "I think I'm going into shock. Or having delusions. Or both." He set the guns down carefully on the floor grate and began taking his pulse.

"I gave you the worst of mine." Jayne snapped. "That automatic jams all the time and the rifle's sights are crooked."

Simon blinked at him. "There's nothing wrong with the automatic and the rifle's sights are perfect."

"What?" Jayne scowled. "Give 'em here." He snatched the automatic and began disassembling it with easy familiarity. "Huh." He said eventually. "Someone's fixed it and replaced the springs. Adjusted the trigger, too. Who'd you let mess with my gun?"

"You just said you gave it to me, so it's my gun, and I didn't let anyone touch it." Simon offered the rifle. Jayne examined it minutely and Simon began absentmindedly reassembling the pistol.

"Well, this rifle didn't have any laser sight when I gave it to you. Or the expanded clip. Or the winchester quick-action bolt. In fact, if my name weren't carved the stock I'd think it was a different gun." Jayne's eyes widened as he noticed Simon fit the automatic back together while looking at Kaylee, who vanished past them towards the bridge. "Hell, you must have fixed 'em yourself if nobody else did! When'd you learn to strip a gun and put it back together without looking?"

"What?" Simon asked, finally glancing down at what he'd been doing. "Uh... I haven't." He tried to continue, but nearly managed to put a part in backwards before Jayne snatched it away.

"Crazy." He muttered. "Gorram crazies. Here." He shoved the rifle back at Simon. "Keep it." He assembled the automatic and pushed it back into its holster before handing that over too. He stalked away; Simon shrugged and hurried off with his prizes. He could always sell them.

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Simon wandered up to the bridge just before lunch. Wash was piloting- meaning he was playing with his dinosaurs. He had them spread out in roughly two groups, the carnivores and the herbivores, occupying slightly overlapping territories. Simon watched as a mock battle took place; the herbivores had better positions but were forced to move constantly because they needed forage. The carnivores easily resorted to cannibalism and could hold any position they chose. He moved a triceratops to protect a brontosaurus and Wash jumped.

"Oh! I didn't see you there, doctor. How's things?" Wash swept the dinos aside and Simon frowned.

"It's a bit like chess." Simon picked up the triceratops and put it back into position. "A battle, anyway. Triceratops to port attitude control."

Wash grinned, clearly delighted. "T-Rex to aft attitude control!" He picked out the dino and set it up in the described place, next to the triceratops.

"Hadrosaurid to nav cortext uplink." Simon sorted out a dino and set it down so that it was threatening the T-Rex's back.

"Spinosaurus to emergency rations." Wash countered, and set his dino down on top of an abandoned protein bar, protecting his T-Rex and protected by it.

"Ankylosaurus to relative pitch meter." Simon set out the armored dino on top of a small readout. Wash began to look slightly puzzled, but continued playing.

When all the dinos had slaughtered each other, Simon looked up and noticed that Zoe was staring at him from the doorway. "Uh... hi?"

Zoe looked uneasy and narrowed her eyes at him. "Hi." She brushed past him to Wash and set her hand on his shoulder- protectively, Simon thought.

"This kid is great!" Wash said greeted her. "He knows what all the controls are and he plays chess with dinosaurs!" He kissed her hand and began describing the game at great length and detail. Zoe kept staring at Simon while nodding to Wash's raving. Simon blushed- actually blushed!- and ducked away into the hallway. Wash didn't notice, but Zoe watched him leave with a thoughtful look.

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"I don't know, Captain." Book intoned. "I... don't know much about how going undercover effects people." Mal noticed the hesitation and pounced on it.

"Look, if you know anything it's more than I do, so tell me." He ordered. "Zoe complained, said the doc knew Serenity's controls as well as Wash, and Jayne said that he fixed up the guns he was lent. I need to know if he's becomin' some sort of moonbrain like his sis, or some sort of genius- hell, I need to know if he'd goin' to murder us all in our sleep!"

"I think his decision to sleep in the shuttle with the doors locked was a wise one." Book said. "Excuse me." He didn't wait for permission before striding away. Mal sighed. It seemed he was doing that a lot lately- sighing and watching his crew walk away from conversations both. Why couldn't things go smooth, for once? And why did he let his crew walk all over him? He was too nice, that was all. He'd just have to watch the doc close and hope for the best. Hope was marginally better than trusting to luck, right? He sighed again and went into the dining room to sit down for supper with the others.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Simon woke up to a pounding headache and a noise that reminded him of bellowing bulls, except louder. Also there was something heavy on his chest- from long experience he diagnosed River was upset again. The conclusion was helped by the fact that she was yelling practically in his ear. He could barely hear her over the bellowing, though.

"River?" He muttered, and worked on prying his eyes open. "What's that noise?"

"The little girl." River snapped. "She won't stop crying."

For the first time, the loud noise sorted itself obligingly into the sounds of Jayne ranting. The words "moon-brain", "crazy", and "man parts" were featured prominently, along with dozens of curses.

Simon eventually managed to open his eyes far enough to see that it was far, far too bright in the shuttle. And the walls were wrong. "Why are the walls wrong?" He asked... slurred, more like. He probably had a concussion. Or three.

River was too busy fussing at Jayne to answer. He was surprised when another voice asked, "Are you alive?"

"Wish I wasn't." Simon answered, nearly automatically. "Why are the walls wrong? What happened to the shuttle?"

"You aren't in the shuttle, doc. You... came out. In the most dramatic way possible."

"I _what_?" Simon managed to get his eyes open enough to see that Zoe was addressing him... and there were a pair of handcuffs dangling from her grasp. He blinked a few times and almost shook his head before remembering that movement was not a good idea.

"Of course, tryin' to hit on Jayne may not have been the best idea ever." Zoe continued thoughtfully. Simon made a noise like a terrified rabbit and shut his eyes again.

"Someone please tell me I'm dreaming." He begged.

Wash obliged cheerfully. "You're dreaming. And bleeding."

"Bleeding?" Simon pried one of his arms out from under River and felt his head gingerly. His hand came away red. "So I am. That doesn't explain why I came out of the shuttle and hit on Jayne." He could hear Kaylee giggling madly and wished that he hadn't used quite those terms.

"Bad Simon!" River finally turned her attention to her temporary chair. "No biscuits for you!"

"Biscuits? For breakfast?" Simon asked. This was almost surreal enough to be a dream, but he didn't remember hurting so much when he'd dreamed before. Or ever, for that matter. "I don't even particularly like biscuits. Can you get off of me, please, River? I need to breathe."

River made a frustrated noise and pulled Simon's head forward so she could examine the cut in his scalp. Without, of course, leaving her perch on his chest.

"If you wanted to kill yourself, doc, I can think of easier ways than attacking Jayne bare-handed." Simon could _hear_ Wash grinning smugly. "Like, for example, kissing Inara in front of the Captain."

"Uh..." Simon blinked some more and this time shook his head experimentally. Maybe, since nothing was making sense anyway, shaking his head while bleeding all over the place would make him feel better. He'd forgotten about River, though, and his head didn't actually move at all since she was still holding onto him. "Could someone please explain to me what happened?"

"It's night." River said helpfully. "The bogeymen came out. Jayne whined." She delicately parted Simon's hair and whistled at what she saw. "Too close to occupit orbital. Lucky... slight concussion, nothing more. Bed rest."

"Bogeymen?" Simon muttered, and rolled his eyes. "If the bogeymen came out and so did I, does that make me a bogeyman?"

"Yes." River said, and patted him on the back of the neck since he was bleeding from the head. "Poor Simon."

"Zoe, please tell me what happened and why I'm bleeding again?" Simon asked. "I think the homosexual innuendo got in the way the first time." Kaylee broke out in fresh waves of giggles and he winced.

"River opened the door to the shuttle, you came out, and you tried to hit on Jayne." Zoe repeated slowly, as if to a five-year-old.

"Hit on... physically assault?" Simon wondered. "How many pieces am I in?"

Jayne answered, sounding an odd mix of mollified and impressed. "Only one, I just whacked you with a piece of pipe I was holding. You were too quick to get hurt."

"I beg to differ..." Simon sat up fully and cradled his head in his hands once River was finally not sitting on him. "I think hitting the doctor in the head was a most impressive idea, because now I can be really certain that I won't accidentally kill you while trying to save your life."

Jayne's eyes widened slightly. "I thought you said I was safe?"

Simon sighed. "You're safe as long as I can see straight and tell your humerus from your femur."

"I miss somethin'?" Zoe looked between the two men suspiciously. She was still holding the handcuffs. "Why would Jayne be not safe?"

"Because of his fabulous sense of fashion!" River said brightly, and laughed when everyone stared at her. She skipped away in the direction of the infirmary, presumably to get supplies to patch Simon up.

"She said that on purpose to confuse me." Simon muttered. "And it worked." He sighed and attempted to put his limbs into some sort of working order. They wouldn't cooperate. "Help, please?"

It was Jayne (a surprise) and Kaylee (not so much a surprise) that lifted him up and set him on his feet. His knees buckled instantly, of course, and he fell onto Jayne, who gave him a look of deepest disgust and quickly deposited him into a chair.

"Sorry for the whole attack thing, Jayne." Simon said, slumping in the chair. "I think maybe I wasn't exactly awake and went hunting or something."

"Why'd your crazy sis unlock- well, she don't need a reason on account of she's crazy, I suppose. But huntin'? You?" Jayne glanced at Simon skeptically.

"Well, quite recently I wasn't really me, you know. Not feeling like myself." Simon retorted dryly.

"Huh. I say you ought to be the other person you were, then you'd be a lot more useful."

River was suddenly back in the room and had slapped Jayne across the face before Simon had finished processing what Jayne had said. Suddenly everything seemed much less funny- and much less _tolerable_. "No!" She shrieked. "Simon is Simon and can't be anyone else! You'll break the wall and then the lake will fall on you!"

"Gorramit, what's with you two and hittin' me all the sudden?" Jayne snapped, and rubbed his cheek. "That hurt."

"I think I'll go to the infirmary and sleep for a while." Simon muttered, and stood up. At least the room wasn't swirling around him this time. Kaylee took his arm and smiled; he did his best to smile back. They went to the infirmary together, stopping often for him to rest against the walls, while River and Jayne bickered and Wash and Zoe ate breakfast.

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"So, Inara, what's goin' on with the doc?" Mal asked, settling himself more comfortably on the couch.

"He told you, Mal. And what he told me I hold confidential." Inara sipped her tea, pointedly not offering Mal any.

"He attacked Jayne, Inara. Now I'm not much worried about Jayne, but the fact that the doc- the doc!- attacked him is weird enough that I need to know what he said to you." Mal sat up again and tried his 'command voice'. It had never worked on Inara before, but today could be the day.

Inara sighed and delicately massaged her temples. "What I'm going to tell you, you could find on the cortex, if you knew where to look. There are basically three ways for Simon to deal with what he did. One is to ignore it. That would be incredibly dangerous. The second is to just talk about it- people tend to underestimate the comfort talking gives. The third is a process called 'directed dreaming'; it's difficult and takes specialized training that neither Simon nor I have in full."

"Simon said something about directed dreamin' and his dreams bein' weird." Mal wrinkled his forehead in thought. "He also said somethin' about how it was supposed to integrate his two personalities."

"Yes, that's the theory." Inara sounded relieved and approving. "However, practice and theory are rarely alike."

"Integrate how?" Mal asked. "Integrate like I end up with a doc who can defend himself, or integrate like I end up with a killer who knows how to take people apart and enjoys it?"

Inara bit her lip. "I don't know. I just don't know."

"Well, that's all sorts of comfortin'." Mal stood and took a few steps towards the door. He turned back, however, just before the exit. "Inara... if he goes woolly and I have to put a bullet to him, would you help raise River?"

Inara nodded instantly. Mal nodded back and left. It was only after the shuttle door clanged shut that Inara spoke again. "I doubt that if you kill Simon River will live to be raised by you. Assuming that you live through the experience, which is by no means certain, I doubt River will."

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Book was praying. The repetitive sounds were soothing, and his intent was pure. Eventually prayer slipped into meditation, and it was a long time before his mind surfaced again. When he awoke, he sighed and reached for his Bible. He had better go counsel Simon. It was his duty, as a Shepard and as a man. Much as he didn't relish the task.

"Doctor?" He asked, and knocked on the wall of the infirmary.

"Come in, Shepard." Simon called from the small bed set into the wall. "Sorry about the mess, River insisted on using a particular type of analgesic agent on my head and of course had to tear my infirmary apart to find it. Jayne helped."

"How are you, son?" He asked, striding into the room (avoiding all the small piles of supplies) and sitting on the exam table. Simon had the lights turned down low for once, and Book throughly approved. The infirmary didn't look so coldly clinical with the lights low.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." Simon sat up so that he could face Book, and propped himself against the wall to make sure he wouldn't fall over. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, the question is what can I do for you? I think you ought to talk to someone. It's my job to hear whatever you want to say, and while I doubt that it'll be what I want to hear I don't begrudge you the time." Book offered.

Simon looked faintly surprised. "Thank you, Shepard, but I don't need a confessor." He nearly added that he was already talking to Inara, then decided that would be unwise.

"I think we all need confessors." Book chuckled. "That wasn't exactly what I meant, though. I have... some experience with spies and what they can do to themselves. If you ever need to talk, I'll be glad to listen."

"I very much appreciate the offer, and I'll keep it in mind." Simon offered his hand and Book shook it heartily. "In the mean time, though, would you watch River today? She was upset earlier and I don't know if tearing my infirmary apart calmed her down throughly enough."

"I'll be glad to look in on her from time to time." Book hesitated and glanced around the room. "Would you mind if I read in here for a spell? I could use some company, and I suspect that you could as well."

"Of course, if you don't mind the lights being dimmed. I have a bit of a headache." Simon smiled and rearranged himself on the bed so he was lying down. "And please don't be offended if I fall asleep."

"Not at all." Book opened his Bible and lost himself in the familiar pages, while Simon lost himself in dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: This is the fic that never ends... Hopefully I'll be able to connect what I want the end to be with what's happening in the story now somehow. Eventually.

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The phrase "lost in dreams", Simon decided, had never applied so throughly to himself. He was lost in a great, gloomy, oppressive forest, looking for the light. What the light was and why he was looking for it... he had no idea. Of course. Because his dreams couldn't be logical.

"Don't be sarcastic, Simon."

"What's going on, River?" He asked, turning in a circle and knowing she would be there eventually. Was she the light? "Why do I suddenly know things I shouldn't- things I can't logically know?"

"Charybdis and Scylla?" River asked. "I can't make the decision for you."

"You make it difficult not to be sarcastic, River." Simon said sardonically. "I know the monsters of ancient Greek myth, Charybdis and Scylla, indicate a choice between two alternatives- one bad and the other worse. Therefore you think I need to make some sort of decision between two alternatives- to know or not to know, perhaps?"

"Too literal, Simon." River appeared in his line of sight, riding sidesaddle on a brilliantly white horse with amber eyes. The horse almost appeared to be dancing, or flying. "Maybe just certain death?"

"That's right, I nearly forgot that this is a dream and nothing is as it appears." He looked down and found himself riding a large, black horse- a nightmare, it would seem. As soon as he noticed the horse, it bolted nearly out from under him. Only quick clinging reflexes, honed by his prolonged stay on Serenity, saved him from sliding over the mare's rump and onto the stony forest floor.

"Sunstallion and nightmare!" River called, delighted, as her horse matched Simon's nightmare pace for pace. "Try and keep up!"

"I never could keep up with you, River." Simon reined in his mare and River galloped away, still laughing. "Well, I guess I need to find the light." As soon as he was finished speaking, the mare reared and bucked and tried her hardest to throw him off. Normally he wasn't a bad rider, even when out of practice, and could have stayed on the mare as long as she didn't try to roll over on him. This was an illogical dream, however, and he was thrown off and into a moss-covered tree.

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Simon awoke with a gasp and found himself staring into a pair of eyes from close range. Too close. He jerked away and groped around behind his back for the gun paranoia insisted he keep under his pillow.

"Simon?" The face attached to the eyes spoke. Kaylee, of course. Simon left off digging for the gun.

"Hey, Kaylee." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Sometime he would have to invent something that prevented one's eyes from drying out during naps. It would make him rich. Very, very rich. "What's going on?"

"You were makin' funny noises in your sleep." Kaylee stood a more comfortable distance away. Simon was so glad that he almost missed the import of what she had said.

"Funny noises? What sort of funny noises?"

Kaylee blushed and didn't answer. Simon shook his head- carefully, as it hurt again. It hadn't during the dream. "I was dreaming." He said. "About... being lost."

"I never remember what I dream." Kaylee shrugged. "Except if I wake up in the middle."

"I don't usually either, but I messed with my head enough that I would be surprised at feeling normal." Simon slid out of the infirmary bed and more or less stood. "Mental and physical messes, now. I can't believe Jayne hit me in the head."

"Well, you did sort of ask for it, you know." Kaylee grinned and took hold of his arm. He was glad for the support, because the walls were reeling in a way calculated to make him nauseous. "I've never seen you move so fast, either. I think you could've hurt him."

"Really?" Simon asked vaguely, more concerned with squeezing his eyes shut and not vomiting all over the place.

"Yep! You're okay, right?" She tightened her grip slightly and Simon swayed a bit.

"By no definition of the word okay could how I feel right now be described." Simon swayed a bit more and sat down abruptly on the bed, dragging Kaylee with him. "Sorry."

"Scrambled syntax." River charged into the infirmary and pushed Kaylee gently away- enough that she could feel Simon's head again. "Confused, disoriented, uncoordinated. Plus physical symptoms. Need help." She ran off like a shot towards the bridge. Kaylee bit her lip and held onto Simon, who hardly even noticed.

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"Have to get help!" River insisted. "He... he will fall!"

"I'm sorry, lil' one, but I can't understand a word of what you're sayin'." Mal shook his head and engaged the autopilot. "Why am I flying Serenity? Isn't this what I hired Wash for?"

"Cessation of life... he'll _die_." River snapped. "Dying now! Needs help. Even from bluehands."

"Dyin'?" Mal half rose out of his seat and stared at River. "Who's dyin'?"

"Simon!" She yelled, and began crying. "Have to get help. Closest help... Alliance cruiser De Leon, ETA 1.6 hours at Serenity's full burn. I can plot the course."

"Simon's dying? I thought he was fine." Mal relaxed back into his seat- but not for long. River grabbed his wrist and yanked hard enough that he fell face-first onto the floor. "Ow, gorramit! What the hell do you think you're playin' at-"

River was already sitting and had disengaged the autopilot before Mal could finish his sentence. Serenity rocked slightly as she was turned and pushed to full burn, but seemed to be holding up well otherwise.

"Come on, River, get the hell off my chair and out of my bridge!" Mal sat up; River ignored him like he didn't exist. She had her eyes tightly closed and was reciting what sounded vaguely like formulas to herself.

"Sir?" Zoe ran lightly up the stairs to the bridge and raised her eyebrows at seeing Mal on the floor and River in the pilot's chair.

Mal clenched his jaw and levered himself up off the floor. "Now, River, please let go of the controls or I'll-"

River moved blindingly fast, not in an attack but towards the nav computer. She began typing in strings of numbers and then reset the autopilot. Serenity flew serenely on.

"Done." River whispered, and slumped in the chair. Mal looked alarmed and Zoe stepped into the room. "Going to help now." She patted the control panel and stood slowly, keeping her head bowed.

Mal and Zoe glanced at each other over her head. It seemed like they were going for a visit to civilization whether they liked it or not.

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"I'm no doctor, Mal!" Inara protested, following him and Zoe down the corridors to the infirmary.

"Yeah, but you'll do, seein' as you're the closest thing we got to a healer." Mal stomped through the common room. "If nothin' else, keep Kaylee calm." He stopped short of the door and took a deep breath before striding in.

Inara followed in his footsteps. It didn't actually take a doctor to know that Simon's coloring- pale gray fawn tinged with green- was not a good sign. The fact that his eyes were obviously too dilated and that he was babbling something about howling at the moon were also indicators of something wrong.

"Simon?" She asked. He stopped mid-word and looked at her, smiling foolishly. "What's the treatment for a severe concussion?"

He blinked and thought deeply. "Uh... call the neurosurgeon. If one's not available, monitor consciousness and have the nurses do supportive care stuff until one is available." He grinned. "Don't like neurosurgeons. They're arrogant."

"My god, he calls someone _else_ arrogant!" Mal threw up his hands in disbelief. "I sure hope that's the concussion talkin', boy, because you're the most arrogant son of a-"

Simon interrupted Mal's tirade to point (more or less) in Zoe's direction. "Zoe, are you pregnant?" He blurted.

The silence was deep and unbreakable as everyone in the infirmary slowly turned to stare at Zoe, who was standing in the doorway. She gave a small smile and nodded calmly.

Mal collapsed on the bed next to Simon, looking like his world had caved in. Kaylee squealed and ran over to hug her. Inara did the same, except she didn't squeal and she walked over instead of an undignified run.

"Sir?" Zoe asked, ignoring Kaylee's hug and Inara's hand on her shoulder. "Do you... mind?"

Mal finally met Zoe's eyes and she was relieved to see him grinning like a loon. "If you try to make me babysit, I will hurt you."

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River had herself firmly hidden under the casing in the engine room- the perfect place, because infrared scanning couldn't pick her up over the residual heat of the engine. She had minimal confidence in Simon's acting abilities unless he lost himself in his role, and at the moment she doubted he was capable of understanding that he even had to play a role at all. Hopefully the ident cards and thumbprint scans would be enough to identify him, without the psychopathic and violent behavior. Optimism, though, nice as it was, was too expensive a mindset to maintain indefinitely.

How, how, _how_ had Simon known all the things he couldn't? It was okay for her, normal for her even- the bluehands had spent so much time tearing her down and making her grow back in the image they chose for her. But Simon... no one had ever interfered with his mind except himself. So if he was suddenly seeing through the walls of his mind (and very formidable walls they were, too; he'd had all his life to reinforce them) somehow he must have done it to himself. It must have something to do with his psychosis.

No, not his psychosis- how he was _treating_ his psychosis. If it hadn't happened just after he broke her out of the Alliance labs, it must be how he was reacting differently now. It must be the directed dreaming. But how could directed dreaming have that effect? All it involved, as far as River knew, was controlling dreams to help integrate personalities. It could also be used for other things, but none of them resulted in mind-reading either. So it must be something about Simon and directed dreaming put together. What if he was like her, and he could be psychic too?

Then everything made perfect sense, because directed dreaming would allow his subconscious to roam the ship and pick things out of others' subconsciouses' pockets. He must have learned guns backwards and forwards from Jayne-probably that started when his psychosis did, when he would have been willing to use his mind as a weapon and had to learn about guns fast. Serenity's controls were Wash's livelihood and he could pilot in his sleep; perhaps he truly had and Simon had learned them from him? And when he was close to unconscious, Zoe was worried for her child and he saw it. It was logical.

River curled up tighter and shivered. All of her thoughts couldn't really distract her from her worry. Simon had been carried off for the Alliance to fix him, and he was out of her reach now. Out of sight, out of mind.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: I am pleased to announce that this is it. The end. I'll probably write another short chapter to finish tying up loose ends (six pages and I still didn't finish!). In case anybody hasn't noticed yet, my mind is a twisty devious place and I didn't have any of this planned out beforehand. I just write. So if things don't make sense, that's why. Thanks for your patience.

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Luckily, Simon was unconscious for most of his visit to the Alliance ship De Leon. The few moments he was awake, though, were a delicate torture that could only have been created by a malevolent god.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Someone was saying insistently in his ear.

"Yes." Simon answered slowly and as clearly as possible. "And if I continue to hear you, I will do my damnedest to kill you slowly and painfully." He pointedly shut his eyes. The voice went away.

It came back later, again insistent. Simon began snarling all the symptoms of concussion that he could remember- quite a few- at the voice, and promising pain like nothing the voice could imagine. It went away again, and this time didn't come back. Simon fell asleep (or unconscious) and, when he next woke up, recognized the mind-clouding effects of some potent painkillers. He listened closely for any nearby conversations anyway; it couldn't hurt and was something to do.

"I don't know, sir... he seems different somehow."

"Different how?"

"Different like he didn't try to rip my spleen out of my ears for bothering him, sir."

"I imagine that was the concussion." Complacent.

"I would have thought the concussion would make him worse, sir."

"Well, up his meds but don't get him addicted. If you're so worried, keep him out until he's healed enough to go back to that junker we picked him up from."

"Yes, sir." Relieved.

Simon nearly laughed. They were going to keep him out, meaning that he wouldn't be in pain and also wouldn't have to become Harold again. The relief was as strong as the drugs- stronger, even, and he fell asleep/unconscious again.

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The next time Simon woke up, he was in a room as familiar as any. The infirmary of Serenity. River's too-familiar weight was sitting on him, as was usual when he woke up in the infirmary.

"River?" He croaked, and winced. His throat was sore and he sounded approximately like a dying frog. "Would you turn the lights off?"

"They are off, silly." River said, and hugged him tightly. Simon cautiously cracked one eye and quickly shut it again.

"Could you turn _all_ of the lights off?" He clarified. River giggled and padded away (barefoot again; he really had to find some shoes that she'd wear) and welcome darkness fell on the infirmary.

"Thanks, that's better." He sighed and sat up slowly. He felt surprisingly good, considering all that had happened. "Where's everyone else?"

"Hiding." River said slightly petulantly. "They didn't believe her when she said he was safe."

"Safe to be around, or safe as in not going to die?" Simon asked. River scowled- he could see it even in the dark- and shook her head.

"Both." She said darkly. "Didn't believe me about the danger, either. Kaylee didn't want to let go. Mal made her hide too."

"I don't blame him... I bet they didn't even understand what you meant at first. And I'm glad Kaylee wanted to be here when I woke up."

He was slightly unnerved by River's sudden, brilliant smile. "You comprehend!" She exclaimed. "Like me, but different."

"Uh... yes?" Simon asked uncertainly. "I do?" He slid mostly off of the bed and put his feet on the floor. "Comprehend what?"

River only giggled some more and flicked on the dim lights that he used around the medicines. Some lost potency if exposed to light, and he didn't trust opaque bottles that much. Simon blinked at the brightness but wasn't in pain. "Comprehend me now." She finally said, after Simon had forgotten the questions he'd asked. "Comprehend people too. Sort of."

"I... see." Simon said, not feeling that the point was one he should argue. "So go tell them I didn't murder you in my sleep, will you? Let me get used to the wonderful sensations that concussion has brought me."

"Congenital defect, not Jayne." River said, tilting her head and looking through him. "Unlucky... but also lucky. Could have broken under some other stress." She shook her head, blinked, and smiled widely again.

"I believe aneurysms run in our family anyway, so tell Mal it wasn't Jayne's fault. Hopefully he's still alive." Simon said dryly. "I don't suppose hiding from Mal is an easy task, especially on Serenity."

"He's hiding in your room." River informed him sweetly, then ran away laughing as Simon tried to stand so that he could get proper leverage to throw something heavy at her.

"Brat!" He yelled after her and sat back down grinning. It was good to be home.

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"I don't know, doc, I-" Zoe started to protest.

"You're worried that people will think less of you for this, that you're going to be weakened perhaps forever. You're worried that your child will get hurt. You're worried that having a child around will push Mal right over the edge of sanity." Simon started, counting the points on his fingers as he spoke. "You're feeling guilty, because Wash didn't want this and you think he still doesn't. You're feeling guilty for bringing one more mouth to feed onto Serenity, and you feel like you're being selfish for wanting a child. And you're surprised and disturbed by my being able to figure all this out, and wonder why the hell I can't talk to Kaylee." He grinned widely. Zoe, if she had been an inch less career-military, would have been gaping in astonishment.

"That's... mostly right, Doctor." She answered slowly. "Only mostly, though-"

"And you're incredibly, undeniably, deservedly ecstatic." Simon added. He took Zoe's hand and shook it, then _hugged_ her, fast. He stepped away before she had a chance to stiffen up. "I do hope we'll be stopping somewhere with a doctor besides myself. My obstetrics rotation was a long time ago. Right now you're in the best health of anyone I know, though, so I'll just observe and nag you and Wash about moving to a room without a ladder entrance." He still hadn't stopped grinning, and Zoe found herself smiling back. Simon's enthusiasm was infectious. "And I'll see what I can do about the diet on the ship. Tell me if you get any weird cravings, okay?"

"Sure, doc." Zoe was still smiling as she was ushered out of the infirmary. Who knew the doc had it in him? Maybe there was hope for him and Kaylee after all.

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"I'm sorry, son." Mal said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And I'm sorry to you too, little one." He added over his shoulder to River, who was pointedly ignoring him.

"No harm done this time, Captain." Simon said, and Mal was highly startled to hear open affection in his voice. "Just listen to River more often, and recognize that when I start raving about werewolves, there's something really wrong with me."

"Uh... yeah. I'll do that." He backed away from Simon, and looked over his shoulder to see River laughing at him. He scowled and straightened up slightly. "And you'd better not try to hit Jayne again, no matter how much he deserves it, or I'll dump your carcass on the first moon we come to, dong ma?"

"God, you sound just like my father." Simon exclaimed. "Before... not the words, but how you said them." He looked surprised at himself and quickly shut his mouth, but not before Mal had bolted for the relative safety of the bridge. "Oops."

"He'll get over it." River said, mock-callously. "I'll go make sure he isn't getting drunk." She skipped away, ignoring Simon's shout of "Shoes!" at her back.

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"Uh, doc?" Jayne poked his head around the door of the infirmary as though expecting Simon to come after him armed to the teeth.

"Yes, Jayne? I'm not looking for revenge, I promise. You're safe to come in." Simon sat on the exam table with his legs crossed and his hands on his knees, obviously trying to put Jayne at ease.

"I'm sorry for hittin' you, even if you deserved it." Jayne mumbled, seeming to find the floor fascinating and not coming any further into the infirmary (or stepping out from behind the shelter of the wall).

"Well, I can't exactly thank you, but what happened to me was only partially your fault. It probably would have happened sooner or later, and it was lucky that it happened now when we were close enough to the Alliance to ask for help and when I can go to them for help and expect to walk away afterwards." Simon said thoughtfully. Jayne looked surprised, as though someone had told him artificial gravity was impossible.

"I was sorta expectin' you to go rantin' and yellin' 'bout how you hated me forever and didn't trust me anymore or somethin'." He finally stood in the doorway of the infirmary. Not inside, but better than hiding behind the wall anyway. "Y'got a bad habit of bein' surprisin'."

"I already said I trusted you." Simon reminded him. "I'm unlikely to stop just because I attacked you and you hit me. That sort of sums up our relationship so far, in fact, except that the attacks and hitting were verbal and not physical. In fact, that might sum up my life since Serenity. The thought is so depressing that I think I need a drink. Want some?" He offered a bottle of good sake in a bucket of ice. Jayne glanced at it suspiciously; Simon rolled his eyes and took a drink first. Jayne grinned and eagerly grabbed the bottle.

"Hell, doc, if I didn't know better I'd say you were apologizin'." Jayne was already a third of the way through the bottle; Simon had taken a few companionable sips but mostly had let Jayne have it. He didn't even bother with a separate cup. After all, he didn't have one and they lived on a ship together. Any sickness Jayne had (that was infectious) had likely already been passed on.

"If I didn't know better I'd say I was too."

Jayne actually stopped drinking to stare blankly at Simon. "My hand to God, you are the weirdest man I ever got the misfortune of meetin'. I damn near killed you, even by accident, and you're the one apologizin'? And you trust me, even after-" He stopped short and shrugged uneasily.

"Well, I did provoke you this time." Simon shrugged. "And we live together... I think I need to drink some more before that statement will sound anything but deeply, deeply wrong."

"I agree." Jayne sounded very unsettled and gulped down sake quicker than was healthy. "I think I'm gonna go get drunk and forget that we ever had this talk."

"Probably a good idea. Don't forget to drink water too, and eat something, or you'll have a hangover that I callously won't give you anything for." Simon smiled and offered his hand to shake; after a minute and one or two misses, Jayne shook it.

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"Kaylee?" Simon asked, wandering into the engine room. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure, Simon, what's up?" She asked, setting down her tools and removing her welding goggles.

"I came to apologize." Simon said. "I... I'm not great with articulation, as you may have noticed."

"Once or twice, I may have at that." Kaylee teased, grinning. "Apologize for what?"

"First, for passing out on you. Second, for being so generally clueless. Third, for- for meaning what I say when I say it, but not a second longer." Simon dug in his pocket, unable to meet Kaylee's eyes. "So I have a present for you, and hopefully it'll be more eloquent than I am. It was supposed to be for River- but she didn't like it. In fact I had to fish it out of the drain in the kitchen after I gave it to her."

"It was supposed to be for River?" Kaylee asked, sounding offended. Simon shook his head.

"See what I mean about not being eloquent? Anyway, here." He pressed a small box into her hand. "I hope you like it." Simon fled before she could do more than stare at the box now in her hand. The expensive-looking, velveteen box. A jewelery box. She opened it slowly, emotions warring, and beheld the prettiest ring she'd ever seen. There were two small slips of paper tucked into it. She pulled them out and read the larger one silently.

"My dear Simon, it was cruel of Gabriel to turn you out like he did. You know better than anyone how inflexible he could be... I know that one day you'll be grown up and want to get married, but I don't want this ring to be for you. You won't want any remnant of... what was before when you make a new life. But River might like it. It means nothing to me now, and it may bring you and River happiness. I still can't forgive Gabriel what he did, now that I know, but I hope you can forgive me my blindness. Our estates will be held in trust by the banks until you and River can inherit, or your children, or your children's children. I don't hope to live very much longer, you see. I wish that I could see you again- but there will be no tears in Heaven." The note was unsigned and the paper was ragged.

Kaylee brushed her tears aside and opened the other, shorter note. It was written in Simon's almost incomprehensible doctor's scrawl. "Kaylee, please don't take this the wrong way. If you're reading this, I've probably just made you angry as usual and finally worked up the nerve to pass it on. I know how you like pretty things, and I hope that this ring is enjoyable. It was my mother's. This doesn't mean we have to get married. It just means that I want to make you happy, and not to carry around this surprisingly heavy box. If marriage is what you want, that's fine. If it's not, I'll have time to learn how to stop forcing my feet into my mouth at every opportunity and you'll have a nice ring."

Kaylee ran out of the engine room, nearly blinded by her tears. Of happiness, this time.

"Where's Simon?" She asked Jayne, who was sitting in the dining room drinking. He looked alarmed and then murderous.

"What's he done to you?" Jayne slurred, his hand gripping the hilt of his knife. "If he hurt you-"

"Oh, nevermind!" Kaylee ran on, nearly trampling Book and Inara. She didn't see the three of them following her with deep concern as she made for the bridge. River, Mal, Zoe, Wash, and Simon were already there. "Simon!" She threw herself at him; he was startled but caught her.

"What the hell?" Mal started. "Kaylee, what's-"

"Yes!" Kaylee cried eagerly. "I want to get married!" She kissed Simon throughly.

There was dead silence on the bridge.

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"All's well that ends well." Mal muttered, resting his head on folded arms on the table in front of him. "Well, when is this gonna end?"

"After the toasts, I believe." Wash and Zoe were cuddling, smiling nostalgically at the newlyweds. "It might go on a while, especially if someone doesn't take the sake away from Jayne." The pilot added.

"I can't believe it, still." Mal gave a vague twitch that might have been a head shake, if his head had been free to move. "Damn doc. Now if I kick him off I'm out a mechanic."

"You wanted him aboard, sir." Zoe reminded him. "The crew needs a medic and the ship needs a mechanic. Also River would kill you if you tried to throw Simon off."

"Serenity is not a bloody love boat. Why it is nobody never listens to me 'bout shipboard relationships?" Mal whined, aware that he was more than a little drunk but feeling self-indulgent.

"Because the rabid rats that came aboard with that last load of grain can give better relationship advice than you can, sir." The 'of course, you moron, sir' Zoe left unsaid, but she might as well have shouted it.

Mal made a strange, choked sound and hid his head more throughly behind his arms. Zoe, concerned, reached over Wash to prod him. He swiped at her hand and made the sound again. This time Wash noticed and got involved; he tipped Mal's chair over backwards. The Captain of the Firefly Serenity sprawled on the floor on his back, _laughing_.

"Well, I think this just ended for him." Zoe actually sounded faintly unsettled. Wash grinned and settled down to watch the toasts, pulling Zoe back against his chest.

"I want to listen to Jayne trample propriety some more." He explained. Mal's weak giggles were an odd counterpoint to Jayne's drunken, slurred speech. "I wonder when he'll notice that Kaylee and Simon have already left?"


End file.
